All Four Paws
by KyinHI
Summary: She wore her hair loose and her jeans tight. A belted leather trench and a matching pair of gloves completed the ensemble. There was no hint as to what lay beneath the coat, which struck him as a little odd. More than a little odd. The lack of a buttoned up collar or a turtleneck was definitely… odd.


**Long time, no fanfic. This one is for Joss because she asked me nicely and with much flail. Also because I am on a Raymond Chandler kick and Castle's new gig is just too perfect. **

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_"She lowered her lashes until they almost cuddled her cheeks and slowly raised them again, like a theatre curtain. I was to get to know that trick. That was supposed to make me roll over on my back with all four paws in the air."_  
_― Raymond Chandler, The Big Sleep_

She wore her hair loose and her jeans tight. A belted leather trench and a matching pair of gloves completed the ensemble. There was no hint as to what lay beneath the coat, which struck him as a little odd. More than a little odd. The lack of a buttoned up collar or a turtleneck was definitely... _odd_. His wife was downright conservative when it came to work attire.

She was eyeing him like she was some kind of predator, and he a tasty morsel, sly good humor bubbling from her gaze. He was more than happy to be made a meal for this mischievous creature standing at his door, but he did wonder what had brought about her sudden spell of hunger. He eyed his wife with suspicion and took a gulp from the crystal tumbler of Scotch. He had, thankfully, placed it within easy reach upon the buttery leather pad sitting atop the giant mahogany desk he'd picked out for his new office. The amber liquid gave him the courage he needed to disengage from the lascivious stare she was currently aiming somewhere in the vicinity of his crotch. It would be _so_ easy to let her win.

But Castle was in the mood to play. He rather liked their games of late. The sleuthhound and the sexy moll.

He discreetly adjusted himself and took a calming breath, and all the while she quietly observed from the threshold, playing it cool. It would take a decent helping of mettle to resist her charms and he had no intention of letting her win this round of cut and thrust. He rolled his chair back and stood tall, postured with every ounce of manhood he could muster. Her lips twitched. His chest expanded.

"Anybody with you?" Castle inquired. She raised a brow, her smile deepening. He wondered where the boys were and whether he had enough time to wipe that cocky grin from his gorgeous wife's gorgeous face. She knew something he didn't know, that much he could tell; it was something that made her confident and stand a little taller. But she was also here for more. Answers to a riddle she couldn't quite crack, perhaps.

Sunlight streamed through the slats in the blinds he had installed, a hardboiled touch that he hadn't been able to resist. Dust motes glittered and drifted in a slow hypnotizing dance across the room. The shadows left thick dark swatches across her figure and despite the carefully staged and somewhat gloomy ambiance, her eyes glinted with amusement, her mere presence lighting up the room as she leaned up against the wall, toying with the belt of her jacket.

"Nope…"

Castle licked his lips and took a deep breath. It was times like these he wished he smoked, had a prop to distract from how much she affected him, buy him some time. He could get a pipe. It would match the hat.

She_ loved_ the hat.

No matter though, he had size to his advantage and he strode quickly to her flank, crowding her against the doorframe. He lowered his head and brushed his nose along her hairline, inhaling the sweet-spiced scent of his favorite perfume. His favorite, not hers. That was important to note. Kate wasn't one for wearing such a heady aroma unless they were going for a night out on the town.

They were not out on the town, nor was it nighttime. Interesting indeed.

"So what brings you here?" he rumbled in a tender baritone to her ear.

"I'm just a girl looking for a private dick." She let the K stick, let her gaze travel down his body, and trailed a leather-clad fingertip in a slow mesmerizing pull down his chest. He observed its path with spellbound fascination, his breath stuck in his throat, his heart pounding as she reached his belt buckle.

He closed his eyes for just a second and she was cupping his manhood, giving it a squeeze. Not too tight. Not gentle either. Tight enough to convey a message.

Castle gulped, trying and failing to hide the jerk of his hips in response to her actions. Any illusion of control he thought he might have gained was just that: an illusion. Her message was loud and clear.

She sealed the door and flipped the lock.

"Can I trust you?" she asked with an abrupt change in tone, breezing by him, heels clicking on the dried out and cracked linoleum before perching herself atop the corner of his desk. Her eyes went dark, as grave as the fifth act in a Shakespearian tragedy.

The woman was going to give him whiplash, or at least a very severe case of blue balls.

He cleared his throat, swallowed and licked his lips in a futile attempt to regain moisture to his mouth, to settle the desire that had been bubbling to the surface and pay attention to his, suddenly, very serious wife. "To a point," he hedged, making his way back over to the desk and refilling his tumbler. Her eyebrows furrowed.

He would abide by the law, but he wasn't above a little underhandedness in the process of breaking their current case. He hated that he'd once again been relegated to the butt of a joke. Good-natured jokes, perhaps, but still, they stung a little, in part at least because they were true. He'd gone a little soft in his old age. Loving Kate had rounded out his hard edges and acted as a balm to his burning need to always be at the center of attention. He didn't fault her for that, but male pride being what it was, he knew he needed to prove that he still had it.

He offered her the glass. She took it and downed the drink in one smooth gulp. It took him three to get his breathing back under control. Why must everything the woman do be so damn sexy?

"What's in it for me?" He asked, infusing his tone with good humor, hoping to ease whatever tension had suddenly overshadowed their well-practiced game.

"At least you're honest." She grinned, features softening, and then maintaining eye contact she made a slow and sensual show of unbuttoning the jacket. She pressed her lips together and released one silver button at a time. He was rapt as each second an enhanced preview of what lay beneath was revealed to him. She reached the third button and he was treated to a glimpse of the creamy curves of her breasts, swelling with every shallow breath she took. His heart pounded in his chest and his knees felt a little weak when she faltered at the fourth. There was a touch of trepidation in her glance. "I just need to know you're not going to run out and get yourself killed. Babe, I have to tell you something."

Regaining his sensibilities for the time being and crowding between her thighs, he leaned in and brushed a kiss to her cheek. He spread the lapels of her coat and tugged the smooth leather over her shoulders and down her arms, pinning her hands behind her back. Her breathing hitched and Castle notched a score for himself in whatever this game was that they were playing. "Sounds dangerous," he rumbled into her ear.

Her anxiety was still thick in the air though. Whatever she had to tell him wouldn't come easy. Rarely anything did with Kate. So he did what he always did in these situations.

"Maybe we should call the police?"

She laughed then. A loud and thoroughly _Kate_ laugh.

He dropped the swagger. She was his wife and all games aside he loved her. Thoroughly. He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. She sighed, leaning into his touch. "I promise, Kate."

She nodded, once, accepting his assurance and stood, slipping the coat all the way off, letting it slide to the floor behind her. As he suspected all along, she was dressed for anything but business. She wore a sheer camisole above a lacy low-cut bra. It covered nothing. And he loved it. This encounter had been a planned ambush and he couldn't be any happier.

He took a hold of her and she came quickly into his embrace, wrapped her arms around his torso and cupped her palms to his ass. He returned the favor, kneading and pressing her close to his body. Her body surged into him, warm and pliable, and he leaned her back against the desk, wedging a knee between her thighs.

"You know about Jack then?" she asked, a little breathless as he suckled on the smooth skin at her neck. He worked his way up. He wasn't imagining the way she undulated her hips every time he neared the soft flesh behind her ear.

He grunted, affirming her question, busy with the task at hand. "Divorced three times; a player with too many dollars and not nearly enough sense. Had a fight with our vic the day she died." He gently sunk his teeth into her earlobe and she moaned.

"You've… fuck… done your homework, I see," There was a needy, keening quality to her voice as she reached for his belt buckle. A snap, and a clang, and he felt instant relief as his pants loosened. "And Mary?"

"Had a little lamb," he smirked, adjusting his angle so she could lower his pants. He wiggled until they fell to his ankles and then he went to work on hers. She raised an eyebrow, cocky. He cut her off before she had the chance to goad him for not knowing something. "Also, she's on it. Blackmailers tend to run when their mark ends up dead in an alley."

"Nice work, gumshoe." He had earned a quick grin. For a moment she even looked proud. Then she rolled her eyes and assisted with the pants situation. Skinny jeans were his favorite; removing them wasn't his forte.

While he ogled the results of her efforts, she did him the favor of removing the rest of her garments. Garment. The barely there camisole fluttered soundlessly to the ground. She left the underwear on. And the heels. His wife knew what he liked. The panties matched the bra, barely there, black and transparent. He imagined his tongue unfurling and his eyes popping out of their sockets like some love-struck cartoon character.

"I … uh..." He needed a moment to remember what she'd said, distracting as the current view was. "Learned from the best, Mrs. Castle."

"Smart man," she murmured as she surged up and covered his mouth with her own. "Say it again."

"You're..." He traced her nipples with a light touch, fascinated as always when they rose to tight peaks beneath the lace. "...the best."

"No." She chuckled, hands wandering about his ribcage, lazily unlooping buttons on his shirt as though she had all the time in the world. It sent shivers of pleasure down his spine. "The other part."

He felt a surge of pride in his chest. He loved that she loved being his wife. "Mrs. Castle."

She rewarded him by trailing her hands lower, teasing the waistband of his boxers before wrapping skilled fingers around his length, now rigid, and surging against his underwear. The thin cotton material did nothing to lessen the heat radiating from her palms as she slowly massaged him to within an inch of madness.

He hadn't intended his office to be the scene of a noir-like encounter, but hot damn, was it doing it for him right now. He reached between them and inched her panties to the side, trailed an exploratory finger down her center and reveled in the slick wetness he discovered. He circled her, once, twice, before trailing up and stepping away.

She groaned; pouting crimson lips and hooded eyes beckoned him to return to her. He smiled and shook his head. He had a much better idea. She grinned, a lustful gleam in her eye, reading his mind and already standing as he made his request.

"Turn around."

But she already had. She bent over the desk instead and looked back over her shoulder in anticipation. "You coming, Castle?"

He was dizzy with the dame. Her self-satisfied smirk told him she knew exactly what she had done to him. The answer to her question was an unequivocal _yes_. Richard Castle was no two-bit chump. He quickly relieved himself of his boxers, shrugged off the shirt, and lowered her panties to the floor, inhaling the scent of her arousal as he returned to an upright position behind her.

She took a breath and licked her lips, eyeing him with a coy smile that made him mad with lust. He took himself in hand and hastily contemplated quick and dirty, a swift romp to iron out the kinks that working separately had wedged into their relationship as of late. Not that those kinks were entirely a bad thing. The kinky box _had_ made an appearance or two. But as she braced herself against the desk and called his name in a low drawl he thought better of it, instead nudging at her entrance, sliding through her slick folds and coating himself in her wetness.

"Castle," she whined, drawing out his name as he slid back and forth, teasing her the way he knew she liked but would never admit. She flexed her ass, trying to trap him between her thighs.

"I think the chippy came with an agenda," he said, rather proud of the way his voice never wavered. It was taking a monumental effort. Not that he would ever admit _that_. "An old-fashioned shakedown."

"Nobody's done any coming yet, lover," she retorted, batting thick lashes at him and wiggling her ass in an attempt to guide him home. "And don't tell me the dick found scruples."

"Not at all," he smirked, easing himself toward her center, nudging his tip in an inch, resisting the urge to drive it all the way home. She was so hot, so wet, so… ready for him. He clenched his teeth and held back the urge to slam his hips into hers. "Just working the… _long _game."

She rolled her eyes and let out a not at all ladylike snort. "Unless you wanna be nailed by the law, I'd suggest you put a nix on all the small talk, shamus."

His grip on her hips tightened, fingers pressing into the soft flesh. Oh, he liked it when she got feisty. "Kinda thought I already was nailing the law, copper."

She chuckled, causing her inner muscles to flex, and he gave up all pretense of holding out on her, sliding fully into her warm, wet cavern. She gasped and pushed back against him, moaning when he was buried to the hilt. He let out a grunt, pulling out and slamming back into her. Words couldn't adequately describe how she felt. Words were something of a problem for him at that moment. They'd talk later. After. For now he'd give the lady what she wanted. Which was him... Which was incredible. Why was he waiting again?

He left one hand on her hip and slid the other up her spine, gathering her hair into a loose ponytail and wrapping it around his hand, pulling it to the side. She arched her back, curved her neck to the side; her whole body was flushed red with heat, and she moaned his name, beckoning him to taste. He leaned over her body, covering her with his own and nibbled on her earlobe, sucked down the pillar of her neck, let his teeth sink just a little into her shoulder, enough to leave a memento, not quite enough to upset. Gooseflesh broke out along her skin and he soothed his palms along her arms, around to her breasts, where he kneaded and pinched her lace-covered nipples.

"Yes," she moaned as he withdrew. "God, Castle. Yes."

She ground her hips back toward him with a feral wildness, calling lewd instructions and constricting her muscles, leaving him entirely within her command. All attempts at setting a relaxed rhythm were abandoned and he let himself go, thrusting into her, deep, fast, and hard.

He reached around her, wedging his hand between her wet heat and the desk, finding her clit and setting a rapid pace, quick, tight circles that he knew drove her wild. The air in the office was humid, steamy and musky with sex. Their bodies slipped and slapped, skated and slid. He moaned her name, grunted a disjointed vow of undying love and upped the pace on his frantic ministrations. He wouldn't last much longer. Judging by the sounds she was making neither would she.

Just as he thought he couldn't possibly wait a moment longer, she cried his name. "Rick- Babe, please." The leather blotter went flying as he surged forward and she grasped the edge of the desk for purchase; it landed with a thunk. His favorite fountain pen and inkpot clattered to the floor, splattering its contents all over the polished hardwood floors. He didn't care.

He let himself go, abs tightening, heart pounding, spilling into her with wild abandon. She quivered, tightening around him, and cried out. What took only seconds felt like an eternity and he slumped over her, exhausted, spent, trapping her within his embrace. He thought this must be what heaven felt like.

He peppered languid kisses to the red splotches on her shoulder, made a slow path to her cheek, the corner of her eye. He mumbled something about love and her and always and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Damn." It was the only coherent thing he could come up with. Lame, he knew. But still… _damn. _

She giggled, squirmed, tried to lift herself and slumped back onto the desk. "Get off me, you big oaf."

He gave her one last nip on the earlobe and lifted himself, allowing her freedom.

They collected clothes and made a leisurely pace of rearranging themselves. She nipped on his swollen lips when he came close and gave him shy smiles as he rearranged the scattered articles of his desk. He raised an appreciative brow and suppressed the urge to have her again as she bent to pick up her bra. He didn't remember taking it off.

Finally, when they were respectable, seated in a pair of matching chairs in front of his desk she asked a question.

"What did we learn here today, Castle?"

"That my wife is totally hot, and I have absolutely no power at all to resist her wily ways?"

"Well, yes, that's a given, you'd do well to remember that," she replied. "But actually, no. What we learned is that we are _really _great at working together."

He nodded. No arguments there. He was eager for her to share why she'd come. Now that they'd got the first reason out of the way, that was.

"And what did I say I was here for?"

He smirked. He couldn't resist. "I believe you said you were here for some dick."

Nailed it.

She chuckled, reaching over and smacking him in the chest. "Actually, I said I was here for a _private dick_. But not any private dick, Castle. I'm here for _mine_. I'm here to bring you back. The ban has been lifted; the embargo on the Twelfth is over." She paused. "There's just one condition..."

His chest tightened. As much as he'd loved playing the PI, there had always been something missing. The universe had felt just a little off kilter. What had been missing was his family. Not just Kate, but the boys, Lanie, hell, even Gates and Perlmutter. Sure, he'd seen them all frequently enough, but it wasn't the same. And now she wanted him back.

That had never actually been in question. But _they _wanted him back if the ban had been lifted. The DA had changed her mind.

Perhaps he'd never had anything to prove at all. He realized that she was still waiting for a response. She almost looked unsure, as though she thought he wouldn't want to return. Nothing could be further from the truth.

"So, what's the condition?"

"Together. We work well _together. _No more running off on unaccompanied hunches, no more solo adventures, and I swear to god, Rick, if I even see you looking sideways at any men of dubious rectitude, I will shoot you myself." She softened, a relaxed smile curving up the corners of her lips. "Come home, babe."

Home. He loved the sound of that. He'd be a better partner, more careful. Never again would he go off half-cocked. She deserved more, and if she were granting him the privilege of being a part of her team again, he'd be the best he could be at it.

Of course, not everything had to change.

"I love it when you use big words." He grinned, leaned over into her space and breathed into her ear. "Say_ rectitude_ again. Only this time… roll the R."

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**All my love and thanks to Kellie, beta extraordinaire and pain in my ass who demands, more, more, MOAR until I finally get it right. Thanks, lovely.**

**Hugs and kisses to the unicorn. **

**You know what to do. **


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